


Holly

by TheonSugden



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, drug talk, talk of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8275714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: Various characters in the immediate aftermath of Holly Barton's death.





	

“Got a flight back tomorrow…if the flamin’ weather clears up.” 

Aaron took the beer Ed handed him, making quick work of the cap before chugging the contents.

“Or if you’ll be able to walk…” Ed replied.

“Only my second. Fourth…maybe,” Aaron scoffed. “Dingles have a tolerance built up.”

Ed had never known the Dingles, aside from Aaron’s mum. He’d never known anything about Aaron, really.

Ed knew enough about hard partying from his years in the leagues, although the lads had always kept him out of some of their harder living debauchery. He was done with most of that now, and didn’t really miss it as much as he thought he’d might. 

He thought his relationship with Aaron was done as well, minus the occasional phone call and friendly lunch when Aaron was back nearby, but it was hard to keep it cool when you were watching a man you loved crying his heart out with his best mate on the other end of the line. A best mate Ed spent most of their relationship sure Aaron would love in a way he could never love him.

That didn’t seem very important now.

“She was a nice girl,” Ed added, not knowing what else to say. “Sweet smile. Made good eggs.”

She’d stayed at their place for a few weeks one September, on her travels. Ed had a hard time now remembering they’d even had a place together.  

“Yeah,” Aaron managed before wiping his mouth. “She fancied the pants off ya. Had form for gay blokes.” 

The last was said with more than a trace of bitterness. 

“She was always there for me. Not sure most woulda bothered after how I was…after the way I treated her.” 

“You made up for it,” Ed replied, still slightly stung all these years later at knowing the real reason Aaron had moved to France with him, but well-practiced at not letting it show.

Aaron picked at his beard. 

“Asked me for a quick drink before my trip. Woulda only taken ten minutes…”

He squeezed his eyes shut so hard even Ed could feel it.

“If Rob calls tell ‘im I’m havin’ a liedown.” 

Ed watched Aaron curl into a ball on the couch, the way he had on so many nights they’d been together. 

He cut off the lights, standing in the doorway for about ten minutes to watch Aaron drift off.

He wondered if this Robert ever did the same thing. 

00

Robert had his arms tight around Victoria, like he’d done when she was a kid. He still saw her as a kid, even when he knew she was the only one in the family who’d managed to keep it together. 

Right now, her mascara was imprinted on his blue dress shirt. 

“Has Adam called?”

Robert shook his head.

“We’ve got so much to talk about now…him losin’ a sister and me losin’ a brother.” 

Robert pulled back, unable to hide how disturbed he was at the comparison. 

“He’ll be back, Vic! C’mon. You have to believe that.”

He couldn’t even convince himself of that lately, much less his smarter sister. 

Victoria moved to the kitchen, starting the tea, a tea she knew no one would be eating. 

“I just want one good year. That’s it. Last year - last year was…I don’t even like thinkin’ about it. You know where I was this time last year.”

Robert swallowed.

“By my hospital bed.” 

“Every day, Rob. And I’d sit there - when I wasn’t fendin’ off wild Dingles or those sickos up at Home Farm - and I’d think, ‘If ‘e wakes up, and he’s alright…this is the worst it’s been. It has to get better.” 

Robert gently took over the work on the stove, noticing her trembling hand. 

“Well, I haven’t been shot this year, so I’d say it’s been a good year.” 

“Ha-ha. Hilarious.” 

Robert put the soup on simmer to wrap his little sister in his arms again, to take in the comfortable weight of her head on his chest.

“I was so flippin’ _angry_ about you and about Andy and everything and I couldn’t say anything to Adam…not after he lost little Johnny. Holly came back and she was - there. I thought she was different. Helped me with me business - helped me…I know it’s soppy, but helped me be me, y’know?”

“And I’ll always be grateful to her for that.”

Victoria smiled, slowly turning to a frown.

“And then she was just like everybody else. Keepin’ things from me. Hurting me. Making me feel like nothing ever gets better.”

She reached for her phone again, saying the rest more quietly.

“And I couldn’t even have a proper kicking off ‘cos I had to keep Adam from losin’ it. Maybe if we’d talked, maybe if -”

Robert stared down at her, the way he had when she’d woken up screaming after they’d lost their mother. She felt just as small, just as scared. 

“No maybes. You were right and from what I’ve heard about her, she’d be the first to tell you.”

She sniffled, managing a slight nod as she did.

“And we’ll bring Andy home.” 

She nodded again, still struggling to believe it. 

“I can’t…can’t let Adam see me like this,” she said, remembering the state she was in.

Robert kissed her forehead.

“Let’s worry about Adam later, alright?”

He knew she’d protest, so he talked before she could.

“Just five minutes. Me and you. Hug time.”

She rolled her eyes.

“’ _Hug time_.’ Prat.”

He knew she hated the words, but he also knew how much she needed the feeling of settling into his arms. 

00

“Adam…just five minutes.” 

Adam, knuckles as red as his eyes, looked straight through Vanessa.

“Won’t bother ya.” 

Vanessa pulled him into the house, Holly’s death heavy on her chest, and she barely knew her. Never would now. 

“I said five minutes. Clean your cuts and…sit down, alright?”

Adam didn’t answer back. Adam always answered back, so through fear and sheer will power, she managed to turn the five minutes into three. 

When she got back downstairs, he was holding Johnny in his arms. She thought back to when he was the only one who could do what she couldn’t - be a parent to their…to her son. 

She could feel how nervous Johnny was, as Adam was a stranger now, after almost a year - one of the longest and weirdest years of Vanessa’s life. She wanted to take her son away, reassure him, but she knew Adam wouldn’t - couldn’t - hurt him. Soon Johnny realized the same, or remembered the comforting touch of the man who’d been his father. The man Vanessa often found herself wishing still was his father. 

“Hey soft lad,” Adam whispered through a voice of gravel and broken tears. “This is Da…this is Adam. ‘member me?”

Johnny smiled up at him, squeezing his thick finger. Adam smiled too, such a sad smile Vanessa wiped the tears from her eyes before he could see them.

“I wish - I wish your Auntie Holly had seen ya. Held you like I am now. Always meant to ask your mummy…then me and your auntie…we got really mad at each other…no, I got mad at her…’cos I’m so stupid…”

His smile was gone now, but he stopped before he upset Johnny, handing him back to a grateful Vanessa. She left her hand on his shoulder, a gesture of support, but he barely seemed to notice.

“Tracy - do you like her?”

Vanessa was surprised at the question, until she remembered. The sister she’d never known she had. Sometimes she still forgot. 

“Yeah. I do, actually,” Vanessa said, not really thinking about it until now. 

“Then never let ‘er go a day thinkin’…thinkin’ you hate her,” he said, his voice breaking again as he braved a kiss on Johnny’s forehead. 

“Adam…” she said, plaintively, but as he left, she was sure he hadn’t heard her at all.

00

The shopping was clutched to Jai’s hand in a death grip. Poor choice of thoughts today, he knew. He didn’t remember what he was buying, only that he was standing in the same spot he’d been in this morning when everything was…happy. Biscuits, probably. Dad had wanted biscuits.

He saw the woman telling Laurel this must remind her of the son she’d lost to cot death and how the same could happen to her new daughter, watched Laurel try not to snap as she politely acknowledged the half-harmless, half-harmful digging. Viewed Ashley console Laurel, speculated Laurel’s tears were as much over her surprise that Ashley still remembered their baby boy as over the other woman’s callous sympathy. 

He listened to Eric announce the shop was closing, and how Holly’s sister Hannah had worked there for years, been a good employee, a good girl. Asked Finn to give his sympathies. Finn knowing not to say that Eric had known her better than he ever had. 

He read, over Finn’s shoulder, the sympathy text from his mother that the young man had chosen to keep to himself. It had started with, _“In spite of everything she’s done, even Moira doesn’t deserve this…”_

As he made his way back to a shuttered factory, he wondered what she’d have to say about him. 

A face from the past was waiting for him, perched on one of the tables. If he hadn’t seen her at the wedding the day before, he wasn’t sure he’d remember her. 

“Roz,” he said, raspy, defensive. 

She didn’t say anything at first, too busy looking around the place, even as she never moved from the edge of the table.

Finally, she spoke, giving him the hardest look he’d had since the last time he’d disappointed his family. Since he’d visited his son and tried to convince Rachel - and himself - that he really had changed. 

“I didn’t give her the drugs,” he answered, before she even asked. 

She looked relieved, but sick too, because it meant one more unanswered question. One more burden.

“I drove all the way here…made it to the gates of Butler’s…” she said, trailing off. 

She didn’t have to finish. She was as much of a stranger to the family as he was. Or an enemy, considering her past with Holly. 

He handed her the biscuit packet, knowing he had no appetite. 

She looked at the garishly bright colors on the cheap plastic. 

“I gave her the gear…not this time, but years ago. Her first hit. A little here and there…’cos she was supposed to be fine. Everyone’s supposed to be fine.”

No addict was ever fine. Even the ones that survived. He envied Holly right now - the part of him that wasn’t crumpled and dead inside.

“Do you ever miss working here?” he asked, feebly trying not to think about the obvious.

“Oh yeah, every day,” she replied, forcing a laugh before returning to staring at the cheap plastic bulky in her hands.

She threw the biscuits in the trash.

“I guess I should say I’m lucky. I never - I was never like her. Maybe I should’ve been.” 

“She wouldn’t want you to say that.” 

Roz nodded, running a hand through her long blonde hair. 

“Yeah. I know. You brought out the best in her…that’s what she told me.” 

He didn’t know if it hurt more or less to wonder if she was lying to him out of pity, or to believe anyone could ever actually feel that way about him again. To know Holly had…Holly might’ve…

“There was nothing in Holly _but_ the best,” he said, quietly. “I-I’m going to miss her.” 

He had nothing else to say. 

00

Moira wanted nothing more than to sleep in her daughter’s bed. 

That was a lie - she wanted nothing more than to have Holly back. And, right now, to see John again. To feel John hold her in his arms one last time, the way he always had when she was breaking apart. 

She’d never been this broken before. There was nothing left. There was no reason for her to pick herself up. The kids were gone. The farm was a shambles. And Cain…

She washed the self-loathing in her throat down with a shot of scotch rather than admit to herself that she needed him right now. Needed him more than anything. 

He was sleeping on the sofa, insisting he’d stay over. She’d been too pathetic to tell him where to go. Been too honest with herself to know anything but that if she actually talked to him right now she’d say so many things she’d wanted to say for months about missing him.

Holly was her main priority. She hadn’t been when she was…when she was alive, but she had to be now.

Moira made her way outside, looking for the stars. 

Maybe Holly had taken them with her. 

When she strained her neck, she found the furthest star, somewhere. All on its lonesome, twinkling just for her. 

“Holly,” she said, softly, a grin on her face.

Her little girl hadn’t left her after all.

At least not tonight. 


End file.
